#baronyofthesilverwolf

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In the stables, the horses champ and stamp, snorting and nickering, all curious about the Nocker who seldom visits their home.

Art glances over at Thistle, and remarks, "Maybe just think of them like... horsepower? In an engine?"

From the intimidating Friesians that are earmarked for the thanes, to the jet black steeds with silver manes... The bright coat of Dee's Stallion Snowthorn, and the silvery dapples of Moondance, and the red Wildfire. Joker has grown to a nice size as a bay yearling, with a blotchy star on his forehead and white socks, and a strong-boned mare that Gwen called Grey Thunder. Other name plates read... Arwen, Lobelia, Edhellos, Nimroch...

Some quickfooted coursers, others mighty war-steeds. and a few in between, but all bred for conformation, and to be the best of that which they excel at.

"I mean, they're pretty..."

"They're just.... big." He responds.

"THey're perfect" Dee trots in "oh you guys don't worry about the size, it's the temperment"

"I think you just have some sort of hoof-to-hoof agreement with them. They treat you like one of the pack." Art observes.

"Herd" Dee corrects "And even then, not exactly. Look, horses vary, even within the same breed you'll find some with different attitudes. What are you guys hoping for horse personality wise?"

"Um."

"Chill?"

Art approaches one of the silver and black horses, admiring them, and reaches out a hand towards Aquilla, the snappish mare previously owned by Calanthe.

"This one isn't quite as large at the others..."

"She's a bit cranky, Squire. I'd even say Snappish."

Black ears go back.

"Okay, that's a bad sign" She says "Horses have body language. So give her space"

"I don't think Aiden has much faith in my ability to do horse things."

He steps back, just in time for her to snake her head forward and snap at the place where Art had been reaching.

"Egads!" He exclaims, falling into older parlance in his surprise. "From what I've heard about the old Chancellor, perhaps her mount takes after her. I almost lost a finger there."

Art looks to Thistle, "I figure it is one of two things... either he has faith in you, therefore is granting you permission to go amongst his most valued creatures... or he sees potential in you, and wishes to give you the chance to learn."

"As for myself? I think I may yet seek the Aviary. If one of those beasts savages my hand, I have a better chance of fingers left."

She quirks an eyebrow.

"Thistle, you might like an American Quarter Horse... they've got great temperments as a rule"

"Oh, furk no - the birds have sharp mouths."

"Are they tall?"

"A quarter the size? Would that be a pony?"

"There's about 14-16 hands tall" She answers

Art looks at his hand-span, and seems to be mentally calculating.

"...Centimeters?"

"Oh sorry, from a 142 centimeters to about 163?" SHe moves to one "Most of them are sorrel, or brown, but they come in all colors"

"Okay, I'm like 150 centimeters, soooo..."

"Centimeters?" His brow furrows MORE as he tries to do math.

"Then you're taller than this one" A smile "Come on, don't get caught on height"

"Right. After all, I've learned not to judge the short ones..." He starts, then finishes with a grin, "...Like Citrine."

"Perian's a good horse too. Sweet tempered, oh sure, like you, enjoys speed now and then"

In a corner of the stable, a stark white skull stares at the wilders from the shadows.

"THat one's Lizbets'" She says "oh, if you're looking for another 'short horse' , we got one that's fairly new. Icelandic horses are related to Shetland ponies"

"He's shaggy!"

"Yeah. Rochalor was supposed to give a trim"

"That's some mane. I think there are sidhe ladies who would envy that."

Citrine, meanwhile, has vanished into a bag of sugar cubes.

"Oh and if you want a smooth gait, can't beat a Kentucky Mountain Saddle Horse... this little lady here..." A wink

She moves to another

"Look, there's the beast that Mr. Dolph uses for carting. Pretty thing, for all that it's a mule." The nameplate says "Smokey", and for all that it's a mortal beast and no fancy fae steed, it is as well curried, stabled, and cared for as any other here.

Shorter than the horses, and a bit bandy-legged, but with a proud neck none-theless.

"Oh, that's a mule" She says the obvious

"Sure you don't want to at least look at this mare?"

"I mean, I've got Snowthorn, but Goldberry's a beaut"

"Daughter of the river?" Art smiles! "Lord Aiden set me to reading those tales."

He considers for a moment, then drags a bit into memory.

"Slender as a willow wand, wind on the waterfall... She looks nimble and fast, I see which she got her name."